Friday, January 5, 2018

THE BREAKFAST CLUB: Blu-ray reissue (Universal/A&M 1985) Criterion

Not since
Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without A Cause
(1955) has a film so closely aligned itself with understanding teenage angst. The Breakfast Club(1985) remains a
seminal masterwork from director, John Hughes, exposing the social contradictions
of youth with frank and astute evaluations, delving with uncharacteristic
accuracy into the psychological complexity of this transitional period. We’ve
all been there. And that is why The
Breakfast Clubjustly remains perennially fascinating. What more could have
been expected of a teen movie back then, except to say it was about time!
Drawing from his own feelings of inadequacy as a teen and a wellspring of
razorback humor, Hughes creates the ultimate expression of what it meant to be
a teenager in the 1980’s, a decade driven by yuppie greed and an exaggeration
of those artificially created social barriers and stereotypes meant to
classify, divide and isolate young people, ironically, at a time when they are
at their most emotionally insecure, vulnerable, and desperate in their need to
belong. Hughes very deliberately focuses our first impressions on these more
easily identifiable stereotypes; the jock, the preppy, the brain, the outcast
and the burnout. But gradually, he looks beyond these manufactured mantles of
self-pretend, created to shield our truer selves from the outside world.

As a character
study, they don’t come much finer than The
Breakfast Club, and so right for Hughes to have directed the picture under
similar duress. Hughes’ credibility as the foremost purveyor of teen dramedy had yet to be fully tested. Around
Hollywood at least, he had already acquired something of a reputation for being
a perfectionist (code, for difficult).
Perfectionists are seldom understood, though particularly in the 1980’s
– a beleaguered decade where movies geared at teenagers were mostly crude sex
comedies, having limited appeal outside their targeted demographic. Of the
alumni accrued for this ensemble, Hughes had only worked with Molly Ringwald
and Anthony Michael Hall previously, and even then, only the year before in her
and Hughes’ breakout movie; Sixteen
Candles (1984). While ‘Candles’ now seems very much like a
transitional piece, bridging the enormity of that gap between typically crude
70’s sex-orientated rom/com (a la Animal
House 1978), The Breakfast Clubhas since achieved a timeless endurance despite its obvious homage to 80’s chic
clothing and hairstyles.

The deeper
relationship audiences continue to have with this movie is more systemic;
perhaps, because apart from acquiring more knowledge with life experiences
after graduation, human beings really do not change all that much in their
personal outlooks, prejudices or character traits first realized, cautiously
explored and then unabashedly expressed during these formative high school
years. What The Breakfast Clubdoes
spectacularly well is to tap into these innate mistrusts and apprehensions we
harbor against each other; Hughes, ultimately revealing the more satisfying
similarities that bind us together. Superficially, it’s an all-Saturday school
detention that brings this disparate group under one roof. But the real common
denominator cuts much deeper: all are silently suffering from their own
cringe-worthy arctic isolation. Yet, what is there to make any of them see past
the labels? “Saturday, March 24, 1984. Shermer High
School, Shermer, Illinois...” begins Anthony Michael Hall’s narrated
prologue, as the chosen spokesman of this self-professed ‘breakfast club’: “Dear Mr. Vernon: We accept the fact that we
had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did
wrong. What we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an
essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want
to see us, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see
us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct?
That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were
brainwashed.”

Actually, the
movie begins with an even more sagacious quotation from David Bowie’s
chart-topper, ‘Changes’: “...and these children that you spit on, as
they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They're quite
aware of what they're going through...” This is accompanied by Simple Minds’ grippingly somber pop
megahit, ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’;
in hindsight, the ‘me generation’s’
most iconic anthem; in essence, setting up the elemental inquiries Hughes is
about to ask and answer for both his characters and the audience: “Won't you come see about me? Tell me your
troubles and doubts. Will you stand above me? Will you recognize me? Call my
name or walk on by? As you walk on by, will you call my name?”

In hindsight,
it’s easy to see how Hughes could relate to the predicament of Brian Johnson
(Anthony Michael Hall), the meek, studious, and painfully/frustratingly shy
Brainiac, callously considered ‘the nerd’
by his peers because he is smart and – gasp
– a virgin. Hughes, a self-professed ‘quiet
kid’ from Grosse Pointe, Michigan, discovered his earliest inspiration in
1963 with a move to Northbrook Illinois. It is rumored Hughes’ tenure at
Glenbrook North High School was the template for situations unfolded in The Breakfast Club. Hughes, however,
was impatient. After dropping out of university he spent time peddling gags to
well-established acts; also, landing his first ‘real job’ as an advertising copywriter. Eventually, he would write
a short story for the popular magazine, National
Lampoon. This became Hughes’ uncredited basis for their film, ‘Vacation’ – starring Chevy Chase.
Hughes would receive his first screen credit for another NL movie, ‘Class Reunion’
(1982) – a major box office flop. All, however, was not lost; as ‘Vacation’ and another film, based on
Hughes’ script, Mr. Mom (both
released in 1983) quickly followed; very solid hits, affording Hughes
considerable clout and a three picture deal with Universal Studios.

Marking his
directorial debut with Sixteen Candles
(1984), Hughes departed from the more traditional crotch-grabbing humor taken
to its extreme in films like Fast Times
at Ridgemont High (1982); for too long, the main staple of the teen ‘sex’
comedy. Instead, Hughes tapped into a more naturalistic depiction of the
American teen as straddling the hormonal no man’s land between childhood and
adulthood. Hughes may not have invented the format of combining chart-topping
pop tunes with teenage dramedy but he definitely refined – nee matured – the
thematic elements of this sub-genre into a superior mélange of introspective
social critiques. For Hughes, the teen flick ought to do more than rattle the
funny-bone with gross-out gags. It had to breathe in and expel an air of
verisimilitude. At the time, The
Breakfast Club – like all of Hughes’ movies – was rather unceremoniously
lumped into the same classification as the aforementioned Fast Times, Revenge of the
Nerds (1984) and Animal House,
perhaps because nothing like it had been seen before. Time, however, has
illustrated the distinction of his contribution to the teen comedy; far and
away apart from this lot.

I would
sincerely argue Hughes’ odes to the American teen are dramas with only a little
irony factored in, always in service to Hughes’ quest to make meaning from the
mayhem that is young adulthood. His movies continue to resonate with us, not
simply for their ability to make us laugh or, on occasion cry, but because they
stir unaffected and unexpected veracity for our shared social anxieties. There
is always a character in a John Hughes’ movie each and every one of us can
directly relate to, and more than one we can recognize as substitutes for our
families, friends and neighbors. The situations that arise in a John Hughes’
movie capture the essential, occasionally brutal realities of our collectively
shared experiences in coming of age, but always with an enlightening
dénouement. Hughes blind-eyed optimism, that everything will ultimately be
resolved to our personal satisfaction, may be a tad optimistic, although, for
the teen audience it ultimately proves as reassuring as the proverbial
‘security blanket’. But otherwise, such truth in cinema is rare, even more so
in the ‘teen comedy’, so often exploited for immediate sexual gratification to
titillate its prepubescent audience.
Perhaps only now, some thirty years removed from its debut, is it
possible to recognize and admire The
Breakfast Club’s richer patina; also, the inspired thought process by which
Hughes manages to open a wound into these fallible joys and anxiety-riddled
sorrows. His message is clear: we are
never quite as alone or isolated as we believe.

After the
aforementioned prologue, Hughes lures us in with the expectation we are about
to see another teen comedy. Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald) is a prissy rich
kid with absolutely no concept of life beyond her daddy's Platinum Visa. John
Bender (Judd Nelson) comes from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks,
harboring a distinct resentment of authority. Incapable of being unique,
Allyson Reynolds (Ally Sheedy) adopts the behavior of a psychologically fragile
outcast to distinguish herself from her peers. Varsity jock, Andrew Clark
(Emilio Estevez) is outwardly ego-driven, while inside he is absolutely
crippled by the thought he might become a personal failure. Last, is Brian
Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall); a sharp mind whose geek status masks a more
deep-seeded depression. Detained in the school's library for infractions
incurred the week before (Claire cut class to go shopping, Bender was caught
smoking weed behind the gym, Brian brought a loaded starter’s pistol to his
locker to kill himself, and, Andrew taped a fellow wrestler’s hairy butt cheeks
together on a dare) their stay together is further complicated when detention
hall chaperone, Richard Vernon (Paul Gleason) orders each of them to pen an
essay explaining their actions.

At first this
group, who seem to share little or nothing in common, revert to their stereotypes.
Bender teases Allyson and berates Brian. Andrew presents himself as the
forthright defender of Claire’s honor after Bender goads Brian – who is still a
virgin – into suggesting, that in addition to the numerous girls living in the
Niagara Falls region, he and Claire have been, as Bender puts it, ‘riding his hobby horse’. Brian is forced
to confess his virginity. But Claire confides she doesn’t think there is
anything wrong with a guy being chaste until the right girl comes along. Above
it all, or at least, refusing to partake in these confrontations is Allyson.
However, she slowly begins to open up to the group with a shocking tale about
being seduced and repeatedly sexually assaulted by her psychiatrist. As with
most of this posing going on at the start of their initiation, this revelation
turns out to be nothing more than a ruse; Allyson’s way of getting Claire to
admit she too is a virgin, whereupon Allyson readily admits she has made up her
entire story.

To afford
everyone some privacy from Vernon’s watchful eye, Bender sabotages the
mechanism in the library’s door so it will remain shut. Everyone skulks off to
Bender’s locker where he reveals a considerable stash of marijuana. Barely making it back to the library before
Vernon’s return, the teens remain at each other’s throats for sometime
thereafter. But the adversarial relationship between Vernon and Bender borders
on insidious as Vernon goads Bender into the opportunity to ground him in
Saturday detentions for the next two months. Bender shares his stash with the
rest of his detainees; their drug experimentation leading to a loss of
inhibitions and truer still confessions. Ironically, these strike a chord of
mutual understanding and respect. Bender confides he lives in an abusive
household; his stepfather frequently putting out cigarette butts on his
forearm. Both Brian and Andrew are
brought to tears as each reveals his own insecurity; Andrew, unable to live up
to his father’s expectations to be a sport; Brian, confessing that the
pressures of being the wiz kid have pushed him to the brink of contemplating
suicide.

The last act of The Breakfast Club remains just a tad
too optimistic as to what the future may hold for these celebrated misfits.
Claire gives Allyson a cosmetic makeover; her new look revealing a minor
beauty, suddenly appealing to Andrew. Claire then suggests to Bender she might
be interested in pursuing a romantic relationship – something to drive her
upscale preppy parents wild. Brian writes the solo essay Vernon had prescribed
to all as their punishment; the declaration, a kiss off to his authority. The
reiteration of Brian’s voice-over narration that began the movie differs from
this reprise in that it adopts a more hopeful tone. “Dear Mr Vernon: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole
Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're
crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as
you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.
But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a
basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question?
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.”

The Breakfast Club is perhaps the most beloved introspective/retrospective
on what it meant to be a teenager in the 1980's. That John Hughes’ reflections have
tapped into more than a handful of universal truths about adolescence, whatever
the vintage, is icing on an already exceptionally well-frosted cake. With each
new generation come new ideas, fashions and modes of rebellion. But The Breakfast Club endures because
Hughes has cast his sights well beyond these immediate developments,
superficially lumped together as ‘his plot’. Hughes’ narrative isn’t about
Claire and Bender’s burgeoning romance of convenience, Allyson’s self-discovery
while she stares back at her reflection in a mirror after Claire’s cosmetic compact
has worked its wonders, or Brian’s shocking suicidal confession allows him to
recognize that human frailty is not a sin. These are mere ingredients Hughes
exploits to season each character’s stewing ambitions and insecurities, even as
he stirs the proverbial pot to its critical boiling point. In the end, normalcy
is restored at a simmer, albeit with all the ingredients perfectly blended
together; each life enriched in unexpected ways, their differences curiously
melted away.

Shot in Des
Plaines, Illinois in a school closed for two years, The Breakfast Club remains the benchmark in ‘teen comedy’. For a brief wrinkle in time, it established ‘the brat pack’. Virtually all of its
cast members went on to have lucrative careers. In retrospect, the entire cast is
superb, although in reality, only Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall were
actually teenagers at the time; Judd Nelson the grand old man, at twenty-five.
According to Hughes, his first rough cut ran a little over two and a half
hours. The theatrical release clocks in at 97 minutes. It has long been rumored
Hughes held onto a copy of his beloved extended cut on VHS for his own
edification. However, since the director's untimely death from a heart attack
in 2009, this version has not resurfaced, even after Premiere Magazine ran a
lengthy article in 2006 about the scenes excised from the theatrical release.
Will we ever see this version on home video? Unlikely. A better question: do we
really need to? In its current form, The
Breakfast Clubis a perfect movie; the Citizen
Kane of all teenage movies. Others have tried to replicate its formula and
miserably failed. Mercifully, in the intervening thirty years we haven’t
forgotten the staying power of The
Breakfast Club. I said, la…la-la-la-la!

Seven years ago,
Universal Home Video bowed its 25th Anniversary of The Breakfast Club on Blu-Ray. Then
came the 30th Anniversary edition... well, sort of. More on this in a
moment. The results on the 25th were hardly stellar; the image exhibiting a
dated palette of color and minor instability and gate weave throughout. Reds
were more muddy orange; flesh tones pasty and pale. Nothing about the visuals
seemed to pop as it should. Worse: edge enhancement (that ought to have been
eradicated from all DVD/Blu-Ray releases) occasionally plagued background
detail. Close-ups faired marginally better. Yet, here too the image lacked
punch. How much was the result of less than perfect film stock and vintage
color processing? Hmmmm. My guess: Universal’s first stab at a Blu-Ray was struck
from a pre-existing transfer. We should
also recall the studio was merely the co-distributor; The Breakfast Club made for and green lit and funded by A&M
Films - their first foray into co-production. As such, The Breakfast Clubhas the look of a low budget quickie. On the 25th,
the image suffered from telecine wobble, sloppy edit jumps and splices.
Universal ought to have corrected these but didn’t then and so, the Blu-ray,
apart from looking marginally better than Universal’s old DVD, was imperfect to
say the least.

Then came the 30th
Anniversary in 2015, reportedly derived from an all new 4K scan of the
original elements. It did, in fact, look marginally better than the 25th;
the opening credit wobble and occasional dirt and other debris mercifully
cleaned up for this reissue. Also, more pleasing then was the look of the
film’s indigenous grain structure: finer – nee smoother – without suggesting
DNR. The biggest improvement though was in color: richer, deeper and adopting a
significantly warmer tone. And now we
have Criterion’s re-re-release of The
Breakfast Club as a Deluxe Collector’s Edition. So, what’s different. Well,
for starters – nothing about this transfer. It’s still the 30th Anniversary
remaster we get here, looking just fine, created from a 4K scan of the 35mm
original camera negative. All of this work has been performed at NBC/Universal
Studio Post under the supervision of Universal Pictures. As before, there are
no digital anomalies and overall image stability is superb. Criterion affords
us 2 listening options: the original mono mix as heard in theaters, and
Universal’s re-purposed DTS 5.1. Clearly, the spatial separation is advanced in the
latter, the songs given added kick with more aggressive bass. The dialogue,
however, and regardless of the mix, is limited, especially Anthony Michael Hall’s
voice-over narrations that bookend the movie.
These sound as though they were recorded in a tunnel. The rest of the
dialogue is generally solid; the sound field, while limited, nevertheless
competently rendered.

So, what has
Criterion added to this release? For starters, we get new interviews with Molly
Ringwald and Ally Sheedy, and, a new video essay derived from John Hughes’
production notes, eloquently read by Judd Nelson. There’s also nearly 50
minutes of never-before-seen deleted and extended scenes. Could these have come
from the aforementioned ‘extended cut’
Hughes kept for his own all these years? We also get some rare promotional/archival
interviews and excerpts from 1985’s AFI seminar, featuring Hughes; plus, a 1999
radio interview and a segment from 1995’s Today
Show, reassembling the cast. Critic, David Kamp has contributed his own
essay, and finally, there’s a 2014 ‘This American Life’ audio interview
with Molly Ringwald. Holdovers from Universal’s original two Blu-ray releases
include 2015’s audio commentary with Anthony Michael Hall and Judd Nelson, but
more importantly, the 12-part/class act documentary, ‘Sincerely Yours’; a
treasure trove of memories and nostalgia put forth by some of the cast and
crew, also showcasing rehearsals and outtakes. Very nicely done. Generally, I
detest making recommendations for a ‘double’
(in this case, triple) ‘dip’. By my
way of thinking, studios ought to get all their ducks in a row the first time. But
for its overall comprehensiveness and, of course, this beautiful 1080p
transfer, The Breakfast Club from
Criterion gets my vote for the first major ‘must have’ of 2018. Nothing Criterion
does is shoddy. This disc is no exception. Buy today, treasure forever.

About Me

Nick Zegarac is a freelance writer/editor and graphics artist. He holds a Masters in Communications and an Honors B.A in Creative Lit from the University of Windsor.
He is currently a freelance writer and has been a contributing editor for Black Moss Press and is a featured contributor to online's The Subtle Tea. He's also has had two screenplays under consideration in Hollywood.
Last year he finished his first novel and is currently searching for an agent to represent him.
Contact Nick via email at movieman@sympatico.ca